What Sherlock Didn't Know
by vivagreen
Summary: Sherlock knew (almost) everything. He could tell a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his thumb. But what he didn't know was love. My take on Sherene (Sherlock/Irene). I tried to be funny. If I'm not, no judging and no flames on that account.
1. Chapter 1

**Set in the original time period, but with all of the things from the BBC series (aka my life. Cumberbabes ftw!). This is my attempt at Sherene (Sherlock/Irene). Enjoy!**

**~vivagreen**

She lay in my bed as she had lain in my thoughts. _The Woman._Far from the only woman to capture my thoughts, but the only, only woman to have ever captured my elusive, dancing, bird of a heart. Her dark, wavy hair tumbled around her, her lips red even without rouge. I had always seen her with her face powdered and a fine gown on. But now, as she only wore a silk lace nightgown and no powder or rouge, she was at the most beautiful she could be. With her fine gowns and powdered face, she was just like other woman. But now, now, she was different, far more ethereal and nymph-like, beautiful with her flaws. My first thought was as to how she had come about sleeping in _my_ bed, but Watson has always neglected to keep the door locked. That solved, I sat and contemplated how she had gone from a case, to a friend, to the keeper of my heart. She had loved me. I had known that. When she was but a case, I scorned her love, sneered that such an intelligent and interesting woman had fallen prey to the oldest trap known to mankind: love. As a friend, I loved her as I love Watson, but somewhere along the way, that love changed. It became purer, deeper, sweeter, a forbidden nectar I had never dabbled in, but tasted so pure. As I now found myself a prisoner of the selfsame, many times scorned trap, I realize it did not need to be scorned. I had solved her case without difficulty, to my relief, and I expected to fall into morphine-fuelled dreams and to be constantly thinking of her, but I found myself able to think quite as clearly as before, and I did not need the needle because she,_ The Woman,_ was my cocaine, my pipe, my love.

**Okay, so I'm not entirely happy with it, but I wanted to show Sherlock falling in love, and I had always shipped Sherlock/Irene, so this is what turned out. If you people like it, then REVIEW! I'll write faster if you do!**

**~vivagreen **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello my lovelies! I've gotten positive reviews, so I'm back. I've decided that it's best that the time is in the present day, though the tone will be kind of formal. So Sherlock will stop calling John "Watson" and start calling him "John". This decision came about because it would be too hard to write the type of story that I want this to be in Victorian times. Also, I originally wanted to have a formal-ish story, so that's why I decided that it should be old-fashioned, but after reading some other fics, I realized they were all formal. I'll stop blathering now. Enjoy!**

**~vivagreen **

I sat there, watching Irene's chest slowly rise and fall. Suddenly, I was overcome with the feeling that she was only faking her sleep and in fact watching me. I knew that she was not, but I felt an irrepressible urge to leave. But before I did, I leaned over her and brushed my lips against hers.

"Sleep well, my love."

I left to lounge around in my armchair and wait for John to return home. He would know in an instant that I knew that Irene had been here all along, and that might give away my long- cherished feelings for her. But all of a sudden, I didn't care. I was going to sit here and wait for my flatmate to come home and find out that because of his carelessness, my love had sneaked into our flat and I was lounging in my armchair without waking her up and turning her out. This was the absolute worst plan that I had ever come up with. And people called me a genius.

"Sherlock! I'm home!"

Oh no. Oh no no no. He was home and I still didn't have a better plan.

"Irene Adler's sleeping in my bed."

I heard John stop dead in his tracks.

"She's what?"

"Sleeping in my bed."

"But… how did she get in?"

"Well, my dear John, you, once again, neglected to lock the door."

Once again I heard John pause.

"But I could have _sworn_ the door was locked when I left to go grocery shopping."

"Well, you could have _sworn _wrong."

I knew quite well that this question was going to come up. The "_Why didn't you wake her up and turn her out?" _question. However, this time, this time, I just might be prepared to tell my flatmate exactly why I didn't turn her out. Because I loved her. And that was that. But how on _earth_ was I supposed to tell John Watson that Sherlock Holmes, the man with no feelings, had fallen in love?

"Why didn't you tell her to get lost?"

There it was. The Question.

"Because… because…. I liked seeing her in our flat and in my bed."

"WHAT?"

"Because… I think John, that a chemical imbalance might have occurred within my brain, causing me to look upon Irene Adler as… an… object of romantic interest."

I said the last part very quickly, hoping that he wouldn't catch it. But I thought he did, given the incredulousness of his face.

"You're joking, right? Sherlock Holmes, my flatmate, _in love_? Has the world gone crazy then? I mean, you're Sherlock freaking Holmes!Sherlock Holmes does not _fall _in love, he scorns it!"

But despite all this, John was crying tears of joy at my being what he called "humanised", as if I did not belong to the species _Homo sapiens sapiens_. But still, if I was going to succeed in my plans with Irene, I was going to need John's help.

"John, would you… um… help me in asking Irene out?"

I tried the unfamiliar language out on my tongue, all the while turning a shade of red previously unknown to humanity. John stopped crying and started laughing instead. Angered, I grabbed the harpoon from where it was leaning on the edge of a table.

"Don't you dare laugh anymore."

John stared at the harpoon pointed to his chest.

"Relax, Sherlock. I won't laugh anymore. Honestly. You just looked so ridiculous _blushing_..."

The memory set him off again, but I persuaded him to stop by pushing the harpoon a few centimetres forward.

"I'll stop… Jesus Christ! Calm down. You need to learn how to be laughed at without freaking out like this. And yes, I'll help. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

Friend, he said. I had friends. John, and Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, and yes, even Mycroft in some twisted, brotherly way. I had friends. And that's when I knew that even if things didn't work out with Irene, I would still be fine. Because I, Sherlock Holmes, was blessed with friends.

**So, it didn't work out quite the way I wanted it too, and I'm not sure if I like the ending, but it stayed because I wanted to show how his meeting with Irene changed him so completely that he understood what 'friends' really were. So sorry for the long-ish wait, and if you like it and want more, just fill out that box under this. You know, the _review_ box? **

**~vivagreen **


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here we are again. It seems that there is a niche for Sherene fanfics, and as people seem to like this fic, I am back with another chapter. I'm so glad and flattered that y'all like my work. And sorry for the late chapter. Enjoy! **

**~vivagreen **

I sighed, and collapsed into my chair, laying the harpoon back against this table. John made a beeline to my room, where Irene was sleeping.

"Where, exactly, are you going?"

John stopped.

"You know where I'm going. I'm going to wake Irene up."

"No, you're not." I closed my eyes and placed my hands under my chin, fingertips together.

"Why not?" John sounded slightly annoyed.

"Because she's already up." At that, Irene herself waltzed into the room. I opened one eye a slit, and felt my heart skip a beat.

"Hello, boys. Your bath is pititfully small, but your bed is quite nice, Sherlock."

"Speaking of Sherlock, I think that he has something to say to you." John's voice sounded like he was suppressing a smile, and I made a mental note to re-introduce my harpoon to him later.

I opened my eyes.

"Yes, I do. What, exactly, Ms. Adler, are you doing in my home? It was very comfortable, before you got here." Which was true, but not in the way that I meant for it to sound like.

John sighed, and buried his face in his hands. Did he really expect me to get on my knees and pour my heart out to her? This was going to take time and serious planning.

"One would almost think you didn't want me here, Sherlock." Her hurt tone made my heart beat painfully fast. This was disgusting. I allow myself to fall into this 'trap', fine, I've accepted that, but now I let the 'trapper' play me like a violin?

"Well of course I don't want you here. You've just broken into my flat, used my bath, and fallen asleep in my bed."

"I'm sorry, if an apology is what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for an apology, Ms. Adler. I'm looking for you to leave."

"If that's what you want… Mr. Holmes."

She walked out, slamming the door as she went. I watched her go with an odd satisfaction, yet wanting her back at the same time. So this was emotion. It was terrible, but sweet all at once. Sometimes one came out strong, sometimes the other.

"Sherlock, what were you thinking?"

"What do you mean, John?"

"Exactly what I just said. What. Were. You. Thinking? If you want someone you love to love you back, you don't act like a complete and total bastard! Anyone who had listened to that conversation would never have thought, in their wildest dreams, that you _loved_ Irene!"

"Good. Just what I was looking for."

"I THOUGHT YOU WANTED HER TO LOVE YOU!" What was John getting all worked up about?

"Calm down. I can't change my attitude towards her too suddenly, or else she'll think that all I wanted was to use her for something."

"You never thought about it that way when you want body parts from Molly."

"Yes, but she's Molly. She doesn't care. All she wants is attention from me, false or real."

"Sherlock, it doesn't matter. Give her some real attention. Get to know her."

"Why should I? The only woman I care about is Irene."

"Irene wouldn't want to date a bastard."

"She's a bastard."

"I thought you loved her."

"I love her for her bastard-ness."

"It doesn't matter. Irene will like you better if you treat everybody else like they were human beings, not ants under your boots."

"But they are! I'm so far ahead of them!"

"It. Doesn't. Matter."

I sighed. I could, grudgingly, see that John had a point.

"Even Anderson?"

John smiled.

"Fine, everyone except Anderson. Can't expect too much from you at one time, I guess."

"I can handle anything! You can never expect _too much_ from me!"

"So you'll be nice to Anderson?"

"… Everything except being nice to Anderson. Anderson is an exception from everything."

"Even life?"

"You know what I mean, John."

I could handle anything, but this was a huge project. Being nice to people, even when they were idiots, or when they were idiots, or when they… Well, being nice to people when they were so far below me? How could I handle it? But all of a sudden the thought hit me. I would do anything for Irene, even this. Anything for my love.

**A dialogue-driven chapter. What do you guys think? Even though Molly is mentioned, this will not be a Sherolly fic. Expect one from me later, after this is done. :P If you want another, fill out the box beneath this message. You know the one. **

**~vivagreen**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey hey hey! Another chapter here, and in less time than the other one! Yippee! floratang wondered what he was going to do for his love. Well, that comes later. This is just him trying to be nice (and me trying to be funny… so no deep stuff at the end of the chapter). So, without further ado, let me present Chapter 4. Enjoy!**

**~vivagreen **

I strode into Molly's morgue like I usually did, but with very different emotions in my heart than I usually did. Not that I had usually had emotions, but….

"Hello, Molly. How are you doing today?"

"Go away Sherlock. There are no body parts for you here today."

"No, I was wondering…"

"The microscope is over there, like it usually is." Molly waved her hand in the vague direction of the microscope before returning to her work.

"He died of liver cancer. Heavy smoker and drinker, frequented at the pub near Baker Street."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Molly's tone was uncertain, as she put her head to the side and wondered why I wasn't at the microscope already.

"But no, the microscope is not why I'm here. I was wondering; it's your lunch break soon, so would you like to go have some coffee with me? I… um… have to talk to you. It's about… Ms. Adler."

"Sherlock? Are you um… alright in there? Do you… need to lie down or something? _Are_ you Sherlock? Um… what am I saying… or course you are. You're just drunk? No… you don't drink… And why would you want to talk to me about Ms. Adler?" Molly seemed to be talking to herself at the end of it.

"I'm fine, Molly. Just meet me upstairs in 5 minutes, ready to go."

I left the morgue, practically _feeling_ Molly's confusion.

In 5 minutes, Molly was upstairs with her jacket.

"Good. Very punctual. Let's go."

I swept out the door without waiting for her to follow me. Molly ran up beside me, jogging to keep pace.

"Sherlock, why do you want to talk to me about Irene Adler?"

"You'll see. Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be."

"Sherlock…?"

"Just… here, get in the cab." I opened the door for her, and then climbed in after.

"Teashop, please." The cabbie nodded and drove in that direction.

I got out my phone and texted John.

_Being nice to Molly. Taking her out _

_for coffee. Will explain current… _

_situation. Have fun at work._

_-SH _

Within seconds, John replied:

_Yeah, yeah. Just don't say anything_

_mean to Molly or I will punch you. _

_Have fun explaining your 'chemical_

_imbalance.'_

_-JW_

How typical of John. Just then, the cabbie arrived at Teashop. We both climbed out. I paid the cabbie and sent him on his way. Once we were both seated and had ordered, the questioning began.

"Ok, why am I here, Sherlock?"

"So I can explain something quite… extraordinary to you. As my friend, you deserve to know."

"What did John feed you? Me, your friend? Really?"

"Yes, really. Now stop the interrogation and just… listen to me." I took a deep breath, preparing myself to be… _laughed at_.

"I think, my dear Molly, that I have… fallen in love with Irene Adler." Rushing the last few words, I hoped that she would take me seriously and not… _laugh_ as John had.

Molly burst out laughing.

"Stop laughing! There's nothing funny!" Oh, where was my harpoon when I needed it?

"The great Sherlock Holmes, falling in love! Who would've known? I-" But whatever she was going to say was cut off by her chortling.

"Please take me seriously. Look, I'm even being nice and everything!" Molly finally calmed down.

"Well, if you're being serious, then this is wonderful! You two will be so good together! Your personalities fit, and everything!"

"I'm glad you approve. Do you think you could… um… help me? But if it's too much trouble, you don't have too." The request tumbled out of my mouth at top speed. I was uncharacteristically _nervous_.

"Nonsense! I'd help you even if all the bodies at the morgue were my responsibility. Now, when you finally pluck up the courage to ask her to dinner, I'll tell you what to wear. And-" But I cut off her rant.

"What do you mean, pluck up the courage?"

"Just what I said. You have the courage to deliberately put yourself in danger to solve a case, but you won't call or text Irene, asking her to dinner. How is this _logical_ as you would say?"

"I- um- not the same…" I mumbled something incoherent and took a gulp of my coffee. The burning liquid filled my mouth and scathed my tongue. I swallowed and gasped.

Molly looked at me like I suddenly grew another head.

"Irene must've really changed you. The Sherlock I knew would never have burned himself with his own coffee. Or take me to coffee, for that matter. I think you've become positively _human_."

There it was. That word again. Do I really need to convince _everybody_ that I'm of the species _Homo sapiens sapiens_?

**So, if I wasn't funny, don't blame me. I try, okay? And if I was funny, yippee! Goal achieved. Let me know about what you think by filling the box below. Oh, and I'm accepting suggestions about how Sherlock should ask out Irene: Text, call, or face-to-face. I'll let you know the results at the end of next chapter. **

**~vivagreen **


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so sorry for not updating, but homework's been killing. Well, I've been encouraged to continue, so I will. This is a rather interesting chapter, maybe funny (I tried), maybe not. But anyways, I'll shut up and leave you to read. Enjoy! **

**~vivagreen **

Back at 221B, I sighed and collapsed into a chair. Molly was right. This… _cowardice_… was unacceptable coming from the world's only consulting detective. I was going to do something about Irene today. Now, in fact. I pulled out my phone, determined to do it.

_Next week Tuesday. Baker_

_Street. If convenient, come._

_If inconvenient, come_

_anyways. _

_-SH _

My finger hovered over the send button, just about to press it. But something held me back.

"John!"

"Yes, Sherlock?" John came into the room, holding an apple.

"Can you read this text that I'm going to send to Irene?"

John took my phone, read the text and stared at me. I waited, eyes closed. I could feel his gaze boring into me. Finally, I opened my eyes.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think that you were deprived of air at birth."

"Are you insulting my intelligence?"

"YES I AM YOU PRAT!"

"Well, what's wrong with it?" I was getting impatient.

"So many things, Sherlock. So many things."

"And they are…?"

"First of all, that's not an invite, that's a freaking command!"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"So many things, Sherlock. So many things."

I sighed. This wasn't getting _anywhere_.

"And they are…?"

"Ms. Adler is a strong, independent woman, not a pet dog!"

"I never said she was."

"You're sure acting like it."

"And what's wrong wi- you know what? Never mind. If you know how to do….._this…. _so well, then write the text for me!"

John looked dumbfounded. For no good reason. He should've seen this coming straight at him. I handed him the phone, and he took it. His mouth worked up and down a few times, and he spluttered. I leaned back, steepled my hands, and closed my eyes. Spluttering sounds continued to reach my ears. Finally, I opened one eye.

"Well…?"

"If I ever agree to help you ever again, hold my head underwater until I stop struggling."

I laughed. How _John_.

"Fine, I'll dictate. 'Dear Irene. It's been awhile. I'd like to gat back in touch with you. How about dinner? Text me back with good times. No guarantee that I will match. –SH'. " I closed my eyes again.

"Whoa…. where'd all that humanness come from?" The keys clacked as John finished keying the message in, and there was a beep when he pressed the send button.

"I've been saving it up." I heard the smugness in my own voice, but I didn't care.

_Ahhhh_. The sound startled us both.

"She replied!" My voice sounded disgustingly happy, with a tinge of… _nervous_.

John fumbled with the phone before pulling up the text.

"She said 'Anytime is the right time, Mister Holmes.'"

"Well, text her back. Tomorrow at 3."

"No. You are nowhere near ready for this. Thursday at 3."

"Fine…. And call Molly!"

**Sorry for the short chapter. Please don't hurt me! But anyways…. what do you think? Leave comments below. **

**~vivagreen**


	6. Chapter 6

**Back for more! I recently switched to Ubuntu (Linux), so I've just familiarizing myself with the new format, hence the wait. But I barely got any feedback from the last chapter yet, so I don't know why I'm even here. *sniffs* But enough with the rant, and on with the show! **

**~vivagreen**

"Stop being so stubborn, Sherlock! We're just trying to help!" John's voice sounded exasperated. I couldn't blame him, as I really was being difficult, but so was John! I would not, I _could not_, wear that SHIRT.

"Sherlock... I think I'll leave now... we agreed that when you _finally _asked Ms. Adler out, you would let me and John pick out what you were going to wear. And you're not letting me do that, so I'll just pop to the morgue..." Molly's voice trailed off.

A mild panic settled over me. John had _no_ sense of fashion, what with his jumpers and all, so if Molly left I would have to pick my clothes myself, and I had far too much to do without having an added obligation. I'd probably just go with my usual outfit, and I wanted this date to be special.

"Please don't go, Molly. I'll wear anything else, just no THAT shirt... or one of John's jumpers..." John look indignant, but I pressed on. "Please, Molly. For me?"

Molly looked amused, and set her bag and coat down.

"You know, I was just trying to get you to be less stubborn. I wasn't really going to leave. I would've thought the great _Sherlock Holmes_ would've been able to figure that out."

"I knew, I was just... practicing... being human?" My transparent attempt to cover up was easily picked apart by everybody.

As John and Molly laughed at me, I realized that Molly had gotten relaxed enough around me to such an extent that she could make me the butt of her jokes. I was no longer a god to her, and she had clearly excepted the fact that I loved Irene, and had moved on. Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. What if I could get John and Molly together through my ineptness? Molly would be a lovely girlfriend to John, and she would be one that I could stand, and she can obviously stand me. I filed the thought away, then smiled. What have I come to? Sherlock Holmes, _matchmaking_?

"I think you can stop laughing now." I tried to make my voice flat and unemotional, but again, everyone knew what I was doing. "Seriously, it's not that funny."

"Um, yeah it is. You're usually a better actor than this, Sherlock." John's voice still held a note of amusement.

"It's. Not. That. Funny." I was trying to be firm, but firmness didn't seem to be working.

After a few minutes of waiting, John and Molly got over their mirth at the fact that Sherlock Holmes was being accepting enough to allow people to _laugh at him_. Honestly, I wasn't _that_ inhuman. Everyone else was just too human.

"So, will you wear the shirt?" John sounded slightly hopeful.

"No." This time, my voice really was flat and unemotional.

"Fine. Then wear the purple shirt. It's tight on you." Molly seemed a bit embarrassed to admit that she noticed the tightness of my shirts.

"Yes. I'll wear the purple shirt and the normal suit jacket. Like what I normally wear. I wanted to be... better, so I enlist the help of two people. First they force an ugly shirt on me, then, they just leave me to what I would normally wear. How wonderful."

"Oh dear. Sherlock-y Sherlock is back."

I just glared.

"I thought we agreed that you would be nice...?"

"But you're being useless."

"That's friendly."

Well, I had to admit I was being a prat again, but I couldn't help it. They were being useless!

"Then we can buy you a new suit. A fancy one, perhaps. Or maybe just a different one," Molly interjected.

Why didn't I think of that?

"Yes. That was what I was just thinking." Great. Lying through my teeth.

"That's a really good idea, Molly!" John seemed surprised that he hadn't thought of it.

"Thanks." And Molly seemed surprised that John complimented her.

"Nevermind buying. I'll just..." I took a deep breath. "...ask Mycroft to borrow one..." Another deep breath. "...as a favour." Now _that_ was courage.

"Put him on speakerphone! I need to hear this!" John desperately needed to be re-familiarized with the harpoon.

I picked up the phone and dialed Mycroft's number, and yes, put him on speakerphone.

"Hello, dear brother. How are you doing?" At least the wording was different from last time.

"I'm not getting you into a top-secret military base again, Sherlock." So Mycroft wasn't busy at the moment. Perfect.

"No, I just need to borrow a suit."

"Why?"

"For a case, of course." Great. Lying through my teeth.

"Don't lie, Sherlock."

"Okay, maybe it's not for a case. Maybe it's for something else."

"Yes, it's for that little get-together with Irene Adler you're planning with John and Molly, is it not?"

I felt the colour drain out of my face.

"N-no..." Great. Lying through my teeth.

"Don't lie, Sherlock. I'll have a suit sent to you by evening."

"How does he know...?" John was vaguely impressed. Definitely the harpoon for him, then.

"He has government surveillance on us, John." How dare he be _impressed_?

"Isn't that a bit unorthodox?" Molly was scandalized.

"This is Mycroft, Molly. He _is_ the definition of unorthodox."

I got up and started pacing. No point blocking the cameras. In fact... I moved in front of the mantelpiece.

"Thanks for the suit, Mycroft." Ha! That'll inconvenience him for sure.

"You know where the cameras are?" Molly asked, confused.

"I forgot they were active. He turned them off for a while. Stupid, stupid, stupid! That's going to cost me. I'll have to do legwork for him now." Love was distracting me. What a terrible thing. Terrible, but sweet.

"It's just some legwork, Sherlock. It's not that bad." John looked bemused by my outburst.

"It is terrible! I owe him now!"

"Calm down, Sherlock. At least you got the suit. That's the most important thing right now. You need to get ready for Ms. Adler," Molly consoled.

"Don't you get it? He's buying me a new one!"

"Where'd you get that from?" Now John was impressed with the right person.

"Isn't it obvious? He said 'a suit', not 'my suit'. Mycroft loves to emphasis my debt to him. The use of the word 'my' would emphasize the fact that it's his, and I'm using it. He thinks that I don't care if he spends money on a new one because he's already dripping with money anyways, but that's even worse! At least if I borrowed it, I could give it back! But a new one... I would keep it! And my debt... would be far larger."

"Then give it back."

"Mycroft would never wear a suit that fits me. It'd be too thin for him." I smirked. The cake was catching up with him, after all.

"Fine, fine. So you have to do legwork, and you have debt to Mycroft. It's not the end of the world, Sherlock."

"Yes it is."

"Stop being a child."

"I am not a child, John."

"Well, you're acting like one."

"Sherlock, John, please stop it. We have to concentrate on the task at hand." Molly sounded fed up with all the bickering happening at the moment.

"If I'm acting like a child, then you are too."

"Sherlock..." I recognized Molly's warning tone and shut up.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang and we all jumped. I moved towards the door.

"That'll be the suit."

"Sherlock, it's not evening yet. Mycroft said it would come in the evening."

"He underestimates his importance to the British Government. His name tends to speed things up."

It was indeed the suit. And a very good looking one, at that. Mycroft did want me to make a good impression after all. Hmmm, maybe I should stop this feud... But my train of thought was interrupted by Molly, who insisted I try the suit on. So I did.

"Sherlock, you look bloody amazing! It's so clingy in all the right places. Ohhhh... Ms. Adler is a lucky woman..."

Molly was saying this was good humor though. And even John looked impressed. Mycroft did do things right this time after all.

**Not sure if I like the end, but my muse was running out. This super-long chapter ought to make up for the short one before. If you liked it, please fill out the box below. If you didn't like it, please fill out the box below.**

**~vivagreen **


	7. Chapter 7

**Dun dun dun dun! The chapter is finally here! Yup, I finally decided that it was time for Sherlock and Irene to go on their date! But before they do, I need to say that Jolly is a definite possibility as a side romance. And I'm sorry if my (Sherlock's) deductions are bad. I'm not as clever as Moffat is. I have been drowning in homework, hence this late chapter. On the other hand, summer is almost here! That means that I'll be updating more than once every half year. And for any Percy Jackson fans that might be reading this, I'll be starting up my "The Story of Liriana Pearl Jackson" again. And so, the following is my summer updating schedule that I will do my best to follow. **

**Monday: TSoLIP (The Story of Liriana Pearl Jackson)**

**Tuesday: WSDK (What Sherlock Didn't Know) **

**Wednesday: Nothing**

**Thursday: Nothing**

**Friday: New Story (I've yet to decide what fandom and title)**

**Saturday: A one-shot, or nothing.**

**Sunday: Accompanying Materials to my stories (Song-Fics, One-Shots, etc. etc.)**

**Sorry for the ridiculously long author's note.**

**~vivagreen **

I fiddled with my tie. The thing was _not_ being very co-operative. I tried hard to remember what John had taught me about tying a good tie knot, but it seemed that I had deleted the (at the time) not-so important skill from the hard drive that is my mind. At that moment, John reached over from where he was sitting on his armchair.

"Here, I'll help you with that, you incompetent buffoon."

Reluctantly, I let John's nimble fingers tie a neat four-in-hand.

"You did _not_ just call Sherlock Holmes an incompetent buffoon."

"Oh yes I did."

"I think you need the harpoon again."

"Where did you even get that thing?"

"Not telling!"

"You know, for a mad genius, you sure are childish."

"There's no point in growing up if you can't be a child sometimes."

"That's- that's- the most _un-_Sherlock thing that I've ever heard. She must have really changed you."

"Yeah, she really did. But that reminds me, as much I'd like to continue talking with you, I have a date to go on with a beautiful woman, so I'll be leaving now."

"That sounds profane coming from your mouth."

"Goodbye, John."

I huffed as I went outside. Irene would be here any minute no- Ah, there she was.

"Hello, Ms. Adler."

"Sherlock. You're looking gorgeous today." My heart skipped a beat. Ridiculous.

"You're looking beautiful yourself."

"Thank you!" Irene was obviously (pleasantly) surprised, as well as genuinely glad to see me. Which was good. Very good. Very, very- oh shut up, Sherlock.

"Well, Ms. Adler-"

"Please, call me Irene."

"Fine. As I was saying, _Irene_, I think that we should get going. I have reservations at a quaint little place, nothing too fancy, but I've eaten there before and the food is marvelous." I hoped I didn't sound_ too_ nervous.

"That sounds wonderful."

I hailed the next passing taxi and opened the door.

"After you." Irene stepped in, and I sat next to her.

"The Golden Phoenix, if you please," I told the cabby. He nodded and drove off.

"So, Sherlock. You call me here, dress up for it, and make reservations at a lovely-sounding restaurant. What do you want from me?" I was slightly hurt that she thought I wanted something from her, but that wasn't too far from my old nature.

"Your company."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Well, no. But it's true nonetheless."

Irene sighed.

"I'll ask again when dinner is over. I still don't believe you, but there's no point spoiling our lovely little evening, is there?"

"Correct, milady."

"Since when did you become so soft-spoken? Are you sure you're alright? Are you sure you're even Sherlock?" Irene was teasing, but it annoyed me.

"Yes, I'm Sherlock. And I'm fine. My brain will never dull. Don't worry about my identity. I thought that you were intelligent enough to see that I'm me. No impostor would be able to look exactly like me." I snapped, reverting back to my ordinary self again.

"There we go. I think I like that far better than the soft-spoken Sherlock."

"Really now? You like it when people snap at you? Interesting." This revelation helped me too loosen up just a bit. Or maybe a lot.

"Well, when you phrase it like that... What I meant was that I like it when you're true to your nature. When you put up a soft-spoken gentleman attitude for me, I don't like it. I feel like you're lying to me, even if every word that comes out of your gorgeous mouth is true."

"Well. That's useful information," I smirked.

"What's with the smirk?"

"It's good to know that you find me so attractive that you feel the need to put something about my attractiveness into every sentence that includes something about my body."

"Wonderful. He's getting an even bigger ego, if that's humanly possible."

"All because of you, milady."

"You just said that to annoy me."

"Not true. Lady Irene is my lady," I said, flashing another smirk.

"Are you... flirting with me, my lord?" Irene asked, clearly thinking "Two can play at that game!"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"You are _such_ a child."

"Milady is not the first one to have told me that today," I said, thinking of John. "As well, milady should step out of the cab, as we are at the restaurant," I continued.

"Well. I thought you said it wasn't fancy."

"It isn't," I blinked.

"Sherlock! This must have cost you a fortune!"

"It didn't cost a cent. The owner of the place owes me, and so insisted I didn't pay. But I could easily have covered the cost, so I didn't know what he was going on about."

"Thank you for bringing me here." Her voice had heartfelt thanks and it made me fell all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

But once inside, the food was too good for much conversation. Our conversation had been pretty much reduced to comments on how good our meal was. The first course was white asparagus with a lavender infusion. This may not sound very tempting, but it was incredible.

"This asparagus is the best thing I've ever tasted."

"There's more to come, so save some of your stomach, milady."

That was basically how our entire meal went. The champagne that we had along with the meal was also some of the best I have ever tasted.

"It feels like I'm drinking the stars," Irene remarked.

"Best description I've ever heard, milady."

As we left the restaurant, Irene was leaning heavily on my arm, having drunken a bit too much champagne and wine. And I? I was the happiest man on earth. I hailed another cabby, and took Irene back to Baker Street. John had already gone up to bed. I laid Irene carefully onto my bed, and took out our spare mattress to sleep on the floor. Before I went to bed however, Irene shifted on my bed.

"Kiss me goodnight, Sherlock," she slurred

I walked over the the edge of my bed and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"On the lips, you moron."

I then carefully, carefully pressed my mouth to hers.

"There we go. Thanks for dinner. It was wonderful..." And with that, she fell asleep.

I grinned, still feeling her delicate lips on mine.

"Goodnight, my angel."

**Okay, I know everybody is OOC here, but it had to be done for the next part of my story. So please don't flame me going "OOC! Everybody's OOC! You will burn in fanfiction hell for this!" However, reviews are appreciated. I will do my best to adhere to the schedule at the start of the chapter. I hope you all like flirty!Sherlock, because I'll be putting more of him in. Sorry for getting Irene drunk. (I know I'm rambling, but it's late at night and I really need to be getting this done, so...) Next week I'll be posting Chapter 1 redone. It'll be Sherlock's monologue, but longer, better, and in the correct time period. During the summer, things like that will be posted on Sundays. As well, brownie points to whoever understands what Sherlock and Irene's meal is based on. Review if you know (and include where it came from if you do know) and if you don't, review anyways! Sorry for my rambling and the two ridiculously long author's notes here. **

**~vivagreen **


	8. Chapter 1 Redone

**Hello! I'm back again! This chapter is Chapter 1 redone. I'd like to make clear that this is somewhat of a crack!chapter, and I intended for this to be funny, so please don't take this too seriously. Enjoy!**

**~vivagreen**

The journey had long and tiring, requiring much concentration and hand-eye co-ordination. It had been so long... so long...

What had this journey been, you might ask. Well, I, Sherlock Holmes, had been to the supermarket to buy some milk. It had been horrible! There had been so many different types of milk, and then there was the cream, pretending to be milk and messing me up. But that horrifying experience was a story for another time. Right now, I was home. And I needed a nap.

I walked towards my bedroom, where I could rest up for the rest of the day, as I felt really drained and needed to have my brain functional again so that I could deal with any cases that just might come my way. But the instant I walked into my room, I knew that I would not be getting any rest at that moment.

Irene Adler lay stretched out on my bed, looking delicate and peaceful. While I knew in my heart that she was none of those things, I still loved the thought that being in _my_ room could make her feel safe enough that she could let her guard down like that. Once I got past that unreasonable feeling, I got to the greater question: What was she doing in my bed? As much as I loved having her around, I still liked knowing when she would be coming, and being there to greet her, instead of having her break into my flat.

You may have realized something, and you may be shocked at the realization. But yes. The great, emotionless Sherlock Holmes had fallen in love. With Irene Adler no less.

As I pondered my next course of action, I realized that I was far too tired out by my milk-buying adventure to think properly. But that didn't stop me from trying to pick the right thing to do. First, I listed out all the possibilities.

Wake her up.

Crawl into the bed with her and snuggle for awhile.

Pour ice-cold water on her.

Do nothing.

Go to sleep in John's room.

Draw on her face.

Or arms...

Or feet...

Pretend to be a dragon so she'll wake up,

Pretend to be a unicorn so she'll think that she broke into the wrong flat so she'll feel super awkward.

By the time I got to 10, I realized that there was something seriously wrong with my brain. But pretending to be a unicorn would be fun, and then I can laugh when she starts to apologize for breaking into the wrong-

SHUT UP, SHERLOCK!

Okay. Much better. Must think of plan.

Can't think of plan.

To tell you the truth, she was just too distracting, lying there. She had her hair down, and looked so vulnerable in her sleep. It reminded her of the last couple of times that I had seen her with her hair down. Each time marked another stage in our relationship: first came tolerance, then friendship, and then finally, love. Ah, love. The oldest trap known to mankind, one that I had scorned for ages before I fell in it. How the mighty have fallen, you could say. Or you might say "FINALLY! THE IDIOT! THEY ARE SO OBVIOUSLY MEANT FOR EACH OTHER AND OH MY GOODNESS-" Hem. The second one totally wouldn't be the reaction of some of the people I tell *cough cough Molly cough cough*.

I think the milk I bought may have been mildly drugged.

**So, how did y'all like it? I hope it's funny, but I'm writing this really late at night (again), so I apologize for the crappiness. Yeah. That's pretty much all I have to say. Except a plea for reviews, as always. **

**~vivagreen**


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